the glad tidings of Salvation.

Early in my life, when from the warm depths of my soft and downy nest,
I looked out upon a yet formless world, that picture evoked many dreams;
later when I was more capable of appreciating the extreme crudity of the
design, that huge sun, half-engulfed in the sea, and that tiny mission
boat sailing towards the unknown shores still had a very great charm for
me.

Now when they questioned me I replied: "I expect to be a missionary."
But I spoke in a low voice, in the voice of one not sure of himself, and
I felt that they no longer believed in my asseverations. Even my mother,
when she heard my response, smiled sadly.

Doubtless my answer exceeded what she expected from my faith;--probably
she said to herself that it was never to be; no doubt she thought that I
would become something very different, in all probability something less
desirable, that it was impossible at this time to foresee.

This determination of mine to become a missionary seemed to solve my
every problem. It would mean long voyages and an adventurous, perilous
life,--but journeys would be undertaken in the service of the Lord,
and the dangers endured for His blessed cause. That solution brought me
great tranquillity for a long time.

After having thus won peace for my religious conscience, I feared
to dwell upon the thought lest it should disclose some unexpected
weaknesses. But still the chill waters of commonplace sermons, with
their endless repetitions and stock phrases, continued to flow over and
wash away my early faith. My shrinking from life increased rather than